From the Depths

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From the Depths Page 2

by S. J. Sanders


  The sorrow was unbearable.

  He wanted a female more than anything, and if she’d allow it, to guard over the budding polyp to ensure the survival of his budlings. But if he had yet to find one, what were his chances of swimming into a female that was also ready for breeding?

  His mood turned sour, so he refocused his mind to the task at hand. His eyes were ever careful as he kept himself low, against corals and blooming reeds until he emerged into the open waters—vast, empty and blue. Drashar didn't have the ability to camouflage himself, not like some of the other species he knew to exist, but he was strong enough in his own right. He had survived this long on his own, there was no other truth.

  At times it proved rather difficult to hunt a specific creature in the empty blue, with underwater currents dispersing scents in every direction, but he wasn’t ready to give up on his hunt. His entire being was enraptured.

  He drew more water into his feeding mouth, but he wasn’t surprised to taste something else combined with that maddening flavor. The brushooj—a dangerous and wild creature from the deep that were long and slender, with two heads filled with razor sharp teeth and gangly but useless tendrils that sprouted from the sides of its body—some grew so long that they could swim near the surface while the lower parts of their body remained hidden in the deep.

  Drashar shuddered, hoping this brushooj wasn’t such a creature.

  He wasn’t surprised that his prey had also attracted the attention of the brushooj, and if he wasn't quick, whatever it was would be pulled away into waters so deep, even Drashar had no chance of retrieval. His curiosity would forever be unsatiated.

  Of course Drashar knew his intentions weren't as noble either when comparing himself to the rather nasty brushooj hunting the same thing as him. At least he injected paralytic venom into his prey first, blocking all nerves so his meal didn’t have to feel the throes of death. The brushooj on the other hand…well, they tended to bite their victims and rip them to shreds while they ate them from the inside out, leaving behind a hollow carcass.

  That is, if they left a carcass.

  Drashar dipped lower, keeping his body close to the corals and leafy reeds. His steady eyes kept searching for danger until the trail he was following led him to his prize. Small black and silver fish swished around him, unaware of his predatory nature, occasionally blocking his vision until he was bothered enough to bat them away. Eventually the grassy reeds and colored reefs he was using for cover ended at a large trench that sunk deep into the sea floor.

  Movement in his peripheral caught his attention. The massive brushooj he had scented earlier rushed towards its prey. A small white creature seeping red fluid into the water around it. Drashar immediately felt sorry for it. It seriously lacked any protective features and only possessed four tentacles. How could such a creature exist? How could it swim? Thoughts swarmed in his head, and in a matter of seconds his choice was already made. He would rescue the pitiful creature from the brushooj, and after studying it and finding out where he could find more, he would eat it.

  Maybe.

  Sucking a forceful amount of water into his bell margin, Drashar propelled himself in the direction of the pitiful battle that ensued before him. The brushooj was desperately trying to ensnare its prey, but due to its massive size it was uncoordinated and had appeared to have difficulty maneuvering around the flailing white creature that was dodging its attacks.

  A shrill shriek resonated from the creature like a tidal wave when the brushooj managed to sink its teeth into the prey's tentacle. More dark red fluid dispersed into the water, blasting Drashar’s feeding mouth with more of that maddening flavor. The creature became increasingly sluggish. Something needed to be done and quick. Unfortunately, the brushooj was sinking lower and lower, carting its claimed prize with it as it began retreating into the deep, dark abyss.

  No!

  Drashar darted forward with all the strength he could muster, meeting the brushooj on the opposite side of the trench at a rocky cliff. He suppressed a shudder. Had he taken any longer arriving, he would have missed everything, allowing both the brushooj and the mysterious creature to slink away into oblivion.

  As if sensing his arrival, the brushooj whipped its second head around. Jagged teeth barreled towards him in a quick and calculated attack. A likely attempt to take home two meals instead of one.

  He refused to be a meal and had an undeniable need to rescue the poor creature.

  But in order to free it, he would have to trick the brushooj into releasing it. A dangerous idea formed in his mind, and success was not sure-fire. One wrong move and it would be the end of them both.

  Drashar narrowed his eyes, timing his moment.

  Fifty tendrils.

  He crouched low, curling his tentacles around the soft, loose sand. His enemy continued to gain on him.

  Thirty tendrils.

  The brushooj lunged, its mouth wide open as ever, assuming a non-guaranteed victory. Drashar spun upwards, splattering sand straight in the brushooj’s black and soulless eyes. A terrible screech penetrated Drashar’s auditory canals, but he ignored the painful sound as best he could, knowing his enemy wouldn’t be tricked for long. Wiggling angrily, the brushooj continued to bellow as it lost hold on the struggling creature in its other mouth.

  Drashar rushed into the murky red water, snatching the small creature in his arms. Up close, he noticed how ugly and bland it was with no distinguishable features. Between its looks and lack of tentacles, he wondered why such a thing existed and why its seeping fluids tasted so delicious. Distracted by curiosity, the creature smashed one of its tentacles across his face, fighting back with more strength he thought it was physically capable of. Especially considering its clear disability and wound. He was filled with sorrow and the need to nurture the poor thing back to health. Clearly his need to mate and have younglings was muddling his mind, for this behavior was not only unheard of, but also insane.

  A nurturing male Aq’aith?

  Unheard of.

  The thought threw him off guard. The creature’s upper two tentacles lunged at him, squirming in his grasp. The movement accidentally caused Drashar to graze the creature’s wounded tentacle with his oral arms.

  Fear gripped his body in a tight spasm.

  Looking over his shoulder, the brushooj was still dusting out its eyes, but he wasn’t waiting around any longer. Paralytic venom was spreading throughout the creature’s body and soon it would succumb to full body paralysis until it either wore off or succumbed to its demise.

  Chapter Two

  Raschelle

  She woke with a groan; her entire body felt battered and bruised. A splitting headache forced her hands to press against her temples. She didn't drink like she used to, not when her hangovers had gotten worse since her thirtieth birthday. She swore she'd never drink that much again… so why did she feel so awful?

  The crash…

  Her eyes snapped open, only to be greeted by intense darkness. It was obvious she wasn't on the ship anymore. She remembered putting her baggy swimsuit on and escaping through some hatch near the back of the spaceship. Her trembling hands patted herself down.

  Dry.

  Nearly naked.

  In place of her wetsuit, there was something tightly woven across her chest. The material was dried out and was plant based, yet smooth to the touch. While relief flooded her brain, noting she was still wearing her underwear, she couldn’t help but wonder where were her wetsuit was.

  Why was it removed in the first place?

  Placing her weight on an elbow, she lifted her torso off the rugged ground. She grimaced as pain rolled through her chest, constricting her ability to breathe while a dull ache throbbed in her left leg.

  She gasped and fell back, hitting her head on something soft beneath her. Okay, so she wasn't on the ground per say, but something dry and almost scratchy was separating her body from the cold floor. She winced as the fall reignited the cracking pain of her headache.

>   Immediately, she knew it was going to be one of those days.

  Giving herself an extra moment to recoup, she took several deep breaths; a technique that helped manage pain by focusing her direction on something else. Slowly, Raschelle's eyes adjusted to the darkness. Small glowing circular blobs lined the floor of the irregular-shaped room. It was rugged, hard and rocky, like a cave. But that couldn't be right. They crashed into the ocean. The announcement had said an aquatic planet…didn't it?

  How did I end up here? Where are the others and WHY can’t I remember everything?

  "Hello?" Her voice was quiet with raspy undertones as if she hasn't spoken for some time. Swallowing the tiniest bit of moisture from her sticky mouth, she called out again. "Hello...is anyone there?”

  No response.

  Where the hell are the others?

  It was eerily quiet. That is, if you didn't account for the small hum of a draft nearby. She thought, if she could hear a breeze, then it was possible the entrance was close by. A plan formulated in her mind. Find the exit. The others could be there. And maybe...they had food and water too.

  Grimacing with determination made of steel, she placed an arm across her chest and sat up, holding back a pained yelp. Suck it up buttercup, you ain't serving alcohol anymore. If you want to survive here, you can’t sit around any longer. She needed water, food and to find the others. But most of all, her curiosity demanded to fill in the missing blanks. Knowledge was power, and it was crucial to her survival to learn as much as she could...and fast.

  Everything after the crash was fuzzy, and while it was obvious she got hurt, it didn't explain how she got there…wherever there was. She prayed she’d somehow made it inland, and everyone was using this cave for shelter, but despite her optimistic disposition, there was a nagging feeling that claimed she wasn’t in for such luck.

  Carefully standing to her feet, she stumbled on shaky legs and headed towards a wall. Her eyes followed the dim lights along the way. That's when she realized the lights were not lights at all. Not really. They were some sort of illuminating plant growth, sprouting in patches between tiny cracks in the cave's surface. She found it oddly strange, never seeing anything like it before, and if Sam or the others were there, she'd bet they could talk her ear off while explaining the boring science behind it.

  Raschelle needed to find them. Her shoulders dropped as she released a heavy and painful sigh. Surely the others wouldn't have deposited her so far into a cave that they couldn't hear her if she called out, especially since she was injured. Her worry turned to fear. What if something happened to them? She had no idea where she was or even how to leave. There were no supplies. She couldn’t find her wetsuit with the navigational unit. Nothing. She wasn’t just screwed; she was royally screwed.

  Step by step she used the walls as a guide to find her way out, occasionally grunting in pain while memories slowly passed in and out of her head. Some stayed, becoming increasingly clearer, while others unfortunately disappeared before she even had a chance to examine them.

  But there was something common in several of them that she didn't understand.

  It was the soothing murmurs from a deep-voiced male that bathed her mind in comfort, easing the tension building in her neck and shoulders. Who is that? Images surfaced, but they were dark and dim like the cave she woke in. There were flashes blurs of purple and green and someone caring for her. Dropping cool, fresh water into her mouth, and changing her bandages as they became brittle and broke apart. Maybe her group ran into other people…but it didn't explain why she woke alone. That's what troubled her the most.

  Nothing made sense.

  Unable to identity the mysterious person she continued forward, hoping to find clues to aid her survival until she could at the very least find Sam, Erin and Mandy.

  She eventually arrived at a pool of some sort. A small circular opening where dark blue water gently lapped against the rocky sides. Her left leg screamed in protest as she kneeled to peer into it. Her nose picked up the scent of seaweed and salt. She let out a frustrated puff. There was no way she could drink this, not if she wanted to stay hydrated. Besides, it reminded her when she was young and sick with a cold. Her mother had forced her to gargle warm saltwater to soothe her throat. It always made her vomit.

  "No thanks, I'm not that desperate..."

  She knew that was a lie, but maybe she'd get lucky and find another water source.

  She sat for a moment, watching a hint of her reflection in the water. Hesitantly, she reached up towards her face.

  "How long has it been?" Her trembling voice echoed through the empty cave as her fingers glided along the curve of her cheek. Her eyes were slightly sunken in as if she hadn’t slept in ages, but her skin was pale and white as a ghost except for the light bruises on her forehead and cheeks.

  Movement before the surface caught her eye. The water darkened, and Raschelle could see the beginning of a face beneath the surface. She scooted back, wincing, having forgotten the pain her body was riddled with.

  A flashback seized her.

  A strong current had forced her away from the other women and try as she might, Raschelle couldn't make her way back. Dizzy and disoriented from struggling, she lost sight of the ship. Without a familiar landmark, she didn’t know which way to go. Her suit suddenly felt hotter, her palms just as sweaty as her hair line.

  "Computer, where are the others?"

  "Inquiry insufficient."

  "How close to the ship am I?"

  "You are five hundred and seventy-four meters away from the nearest entry point and counting."

  Shock coiled its way through her belly. Five hundred and seventy-four meters was a long distance to travel in a short few minutes. The ship must still be sinking then. It was no wonder Raschelle couldn't see anyone or any part of the ship. She spun around, looking as far as her eyes allowed, taking in the environment before her. It was bright, so she knew it must be daytime, and given that it wasn't completely dark, the surface might not be too far up.

  Maybe the others had surfaced?

  As she began her ascent, something brushed along her leg. It felt rubbery against her suit. The feeling vanished but then returned with more force. Her gut dropped a thousand feet. Something was touching her, and she really didn’t want to look, but she did so anyways.

  As she peered down to see what it was, her heart hammered in her chest. Below, was a massive worm-like monster writhing from the dark depths of the ocean that her eyes couldn't penetrate. The beast had two head-like appendages stemming off its slender and round body, each with their own mouth lined with serrated teeth. What was worse was it also had tentacles that sprouted off its body.

  Throwing all her safety concerns away into the surrounding ocean, she kicked her feet and quickly worked her way to the surface, unsure of how far she needed to travel.

  The creature’s tendrils snaked around her ankle, yanking her downwards. Kicking and screaming, she managed to bash her loose foot against one of the mouth heads, but at the cost of splitting her suit open and exposing her wound to the alien planet.

  Shit!

  Tendrils reached for her again. She dodged until a painful bite sunk into her leg. Her fists punched while her free leg kicked at her attacker, but it was no use. Nothing she did freed her bleeding leg or stopped the beast from retreating. She was pulled further away from the surface.

  “No. Let me go!”

  It was hopeless.

  She was about to give up when suddenly the beast screeched. The sharp teeth let loose of their hold, but the trouble wasn’t over. She was bleeding. Profusely. Or that's how it looked as dark red blood spilled into the water. Raschelle only hoped there wasn't any other creatures that were attracted to blood. She immediately thought of sharks and shuddered.

  Slower than ever, she swam away from the creature and towards the surface.

  Tendrils reached across her midsection. No! She struggled against its hold, turning, only to see a wall of purple and green.
She threw punches and kicks but screamed when the searing pain of a thousand lightning bolts blazed her flesh on fire.

  The pain was quickly replaced with an empty numbing which spread from her leg to the rest of her body. She felt tired and weak, but she had a suspicion that it had more to do with the blazing pain than from the blood loss.

  Her half-lidded eyes imagined many things afterwards like a large purple and green jellyfish that almost seemed human if it wasn’t for the fact that it had tentacles.

  Splashing water took Raschelle by surprise. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t see the creature emerge from the water on the other side of the pool before it was already too late.

  All instincts were screaming for her to run and never look back, but something nagged at her. There was something familiar about the creature’s purple and green coloring that told her to stay. It was the same coloring in her foggy dreams and memories.

  “You have awoken,” a deep and guttural male voice said, spooking her as the creature turned his head over his shoulders.

  She wasn’t expecting him to speak and certainly not English for that matter.

  Judging by the tone of his voice and the slight wrinkle in his forehead, Raschelle assumed that if he had eyebrows, they would have been drawn upwards in surprise.

  Her eyes roamed his body starting with his smooth and bald head before leading down to a proportionally sized forehead, which was equally as bland. His two sharp yellow eyes caught her attention, horizontal pupils while his nose was flattened down to a small bump with several angled slits on the sides, however it was his mouth that surprised her. Full blackened lips with two curved fangs that formed into sharp tips. Very predator like. He had two powerful looking arms and humanoid hands, but with two extra fingers in place of a thumb. Her eyes continued downward towards his midsection. Beneath the chiseled abs his body morphed into a bell shape that led into several tentacles. His skin appeared to have a rubber-texture and ranged from vibrant and dark hues of purple and green. The lower parts of his abs were speckles of black splotches that led down to the tips of his sunctioncup-less tentacles.

 

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